


When We Danced (Art)

by PandaaaaPan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Art, Fanart, M/M, a bit of dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaaaaPan/pseuds/PandaaaaPan
Summary: It is moment of revelation, a moment of love.





	When We Danced (Art)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyGetsLoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyGetsLoose/gifts).
  * Inspired by [When We Danced](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088649) by [KittyGetsLoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyGetsLoose/pseuds/KittyGetsLoose). 

> Created by wordstalktome (https://www.instagram.com/wordstalktome/?igshid=1suksx0ldgj0z)

"For years, they’d been all but estranged, and Mycroft’s body in its fourth decade of life ought to have become something remote from Sherlock’s knowledge, like a stranger’s. But as he trusted himself now to Mycroft on the dance floor, it dawned on him that he still knew his brother’s patterns and rhythms so well, it was as if they’d never stopped dancing together. He barely needed to put much effort into reading his moves – he _knew_ Mycroft’s breathing, what the infinitesimal turn of his head to his left meant, what the tiny shift and press of fingers against his back signified, what the dip of the right half of his ribcage preceded, where his feet would be, every second.

All of it – every step, every touch – was done to bring Sherlock through this trial by dance, to keep him moving beautifully, to make him look the best he could. Every detail was as known and reassuring to Sherlock as if this were a rhythmic metaphor for everything Mycroft had done for him all these years – everything he _still_ did for him, all the time, without ever being thanked for it.

....

Only now did Sherlock understand that the cold war of concealment and codes had actually started long before they’d stopped dancing – that the sadness he sometimes saw in Mycroft’s eyes as they’d turned circles with and around each other in their parents’ house had simply been a code Mycroft hadn’t been sophisticated enough to completely hide then, one that Sherlock had been too inexperienced to crack at all.

_I love you,_ the code had said. _I love you, I love you, and I can never tell you._

He understood that Mycroft hadn’t wanted to stop dancing with him, but had had to, because it was hard to keep hiding how you felt about someone when you were in each other’s arms.

Sherlock melted into the circle of Mycroft’s arms around his waist in the slow dance that had been such a long time coming, but the instrumental interlude was ending, as he could tell from the glide of his brother’s fingers over his hips, up his sides and down his arms, then they segued into the slow foxtrot again for the final repetition of the chorus. Again, he felt too far apart from Mycroft. Again, it was a small parting he didn’t want. The lovers of the song were saying goodbye, and Sherlock had just discovered that the alienated figure who had always seemed to dominate his whole existence might just have regarded Sherlock as the great love of his life."

Also see it at <https://www.flickr.com/photos/184766431@N03/48830707132/in/set-72157711156367647/>


End file.
